Downfall
by MusicGirlie97
Summary: Forgiving him is her downfall, but as long as he's there with her, she doesn't mind the outcome. In the middle of the night, Sherlock comes to Molly after he has a horrible nightmare. Post-The Final Problem


Thunderous rain poured down the dark night skies of London. It was past two in the morning for the city, and a certain pathologist laid asleep in bed in her little flat along with her beloved cat.

Molly Hooper hummed in a soft, peaceful slumber. She laid on her back, one of her arms laid across her stomach while the other laid beside her with her hand close to her face. Her cat, Toby, was curled up in a tight ball on the pillow next to her, a slight twitch to his nose.

But then suddenly, Molly jolted out of her sleep when she heard frantic, harsh knocking on her front door. "H-huh?" She mumbled half-asleep while she rubbed her tired eyes. The knocking grew louder along with the doorbell starting to ring over and over again. Toby mewled in annoyance as he scratched his ears in a desperate way to stop the offensive noise.

As Molly became more aware of her surroundings, anger and annoyance hit her along with the knowing of only one person who would be knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" She yelled in a hoarse whisper. Molly ripped the sheets off her and growled as she got up from her nice comfy bed to march over to her bedroom door. She yanked open the door and stomped her way through the hallway; all the while, the knocking was growing even more boisterous and the doorbell was causing Molly a throbbing headache.

She finally made it to the front door and wrench the door open. "Sherlock! For god's sakes, what the hel-" She started to yell, but stopped when she took in his appearance.

His dark, curly hair was in a severe case of bed-head and damp from the rain. His beautiful cerulean eyes were wide with…panic? Grief? She looked to his clothes and noticed that he wasn't wearing his usual attire of a suit and a tight dress shirt. He was wearing a light gray, cotton tee shirt and a pair of long, navy plaid pajama bottoms that covered the top of his pale, slender bare feet. However, he still wore his trademark Belstaff coat, but it was completely drenched from the weather. In summary, Sherlock Holmes looked like a drowned scared puppy.

Molly took in his appearance again, and confusion filled her mind. "Sherlock? What's wrong?" She asked with concern. A cold fear gripped her as horrible scenarios grew in her head. Oh god, it's nothing with Rosie and John? Mrs. Hudson? It must be something awful if he's dressed like this on a stormy night like tonight. Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Sherlock shot his hand out to grip her hand that was grasping the door.

"N-no, it's not…Can I please come in now?" He sounded broken and frightened. Molly gave a slight nod as more confusion kicked in. Sherlock sighed a soft sigh as he walked into the flat.

As he walked in, he kept his grip on Molly's hand and pulled her along with him. "Sher-" She tried to protest about not wanting to leave her front door open, but before she could say anything, he kicked the door close behind him with alarming speed. Molly looked at the door with surprise as Sherlock furiously pulls her. "Sherlock…" Molly tries again, but he just kept pulling her along.

After the events of Sherriford, Molly and Sherlock's association with each other has been on the rocks. When he was able to finally escape the police's questioning about Eurus and her "games," he went straight to Molly's flat to explain everything that happened on the island and to explain the phone call.

When Sherlock was done, Molly's response took some time. After several minutes of silence, she just thanked him for the justification behind the phone call and asked him to leave with a soft plea. With a swallow, Sherlock abided by her wishes and left her flat.

It was about two weeks after that before they managed to fall back into their usual routine before Mary's death, but it also felt like they both took three steps backwards in their friendship development.

Molly knew she was important to Sherlock, but she also knows she could never be what she wished to be to him. However, she won't write him out of her life just because of what happened. She was still Molly Hooper, a well-respected pathologist at the top of her class. She was clever enough and mature enough to forgive someone of their mistakes, especially him. And God knows that she had forgiven him too many times to count.

And now, six weeks after his explanation of the phone call, he comes to her flat in the middle of the night.

Molly thought that they were heading towards the living area of the flat, but her heart thumped heavily when she saw that Sherlock was heading towards her bedroom.

"W-wait, S-Sherlock," Molly said with a weak cry. He doesn't listen as he pulled both of them into the room. He flings her into the room as he turns to shut her door. Molly stayed still with her hands protectively in front of her. Her whole body is filled with concern and anxiety.

Sherlock didn't turn back right away. Rather, he stood there with his hand on the door, taking deep breathes to steady himself. Slowly, he turns to face her, his hand sliding down the door as he turns.

Molly's heart thumped at the sorrowful look in his eyes. The ongoing storm gave out another rumble of thunder that broke through the deafening silence.

"Y-your coat, do…do you want to, um…" Molly broke her gaze from his and stared at her kitten painting on her wall. She heard him take off the damp coat and drop it to the floor. She looked back at him, and he was still looking at her with that same look of grief.

She took a deep breath and stepped forward. "What do you need?" She asked.

And right when she said that question, a wave of thunder roared loudly outside her windows, and it might as well as been a starting pistol.

Sherlock lunged at her and locked their lips together in a desperate hunger. One of his hands clutched onto her waist as the other tangled itself in her hair. Molly gasped as she grasped his shirt in her hands to balance herself back on her feet. As she gasped, Sherlock took that chance to swap his tongue along her bottom lip and invade her mouth.

His lips were chapped and warm. His tongue was like hot liquid that seemed into her blood and bones. She couldn't get enough of it. The man was practically made for sex, his alpha personality, his sexy build, his chiseled face that was crafted by God himself. It was so overwhelming.

"Sher..." Molly gasped and panted as his kisses grew heavier and heavier. Blood rushed to Molly's head as she grew dizzy from the excitement of the situation. When Sherlock finally broke apart from her, he moved his plump lips down to her white, swam-like neck and shoved his thigh between hers.

Molly tries to catch her breath as Sherlock pushes the both of them to the bed. She lands on her back with him between her legs. He continued to place frantic kisses along her neck and her face until he places them back against hers again.

With her head clearing a bit, Molly moves to place her hands on his chest to give room. But he takes both of her wrists in one hand and pins them over her head. With his other hand, he grabs her right leg to wrap around his waist. More blood fills Molly's face when she feels his hips flushed against hers.

He broke the kiss again and lifted his head to stare at her. Molly gave out heavy, panting breaths as she stared back.

"You died instead." He gave a slight sob.

"W-What?" Never in her life had she been more confused.

Sherlock let go of her wrists and gathered Molly up in his arms, his head shoved into her neck. It was like he was breathing her in. Molly slowly brought her arms around and rubbed his back in soft circles.

They laid like that for a long while until he finally broke the silence.

"We were at the aquarium, you took Mary's place," he swallowed. Molly closed her eyes as she listened.

"I taunted Norbury like I did that day, and she pulled the trigger. But since you took Mary's place, god," he swallowed and continued. "You were the one who jumped in front of me."

A stinging sensation hit Molly. "I went to help you, and I hear John, I hear Mary," Swallow. "They were yelling at me, blaming me. I look at you and you said…" Shuddering breath. "You said 'You always say such horrible things,' and then you died."

Molly opened her eyes and remembers that Christmas, that bloody awful Christmas with the dead faceless woman with the beautiful body. The jealous feeling and sorrow she felt when Sherlock knew what she looked like naked.

Sherlock continued to speak. "I looked towards Norbury, but it wasn't Norbury anymore. It was…it…" He clenched Molly harder. She took a shot in the dark. "Your sister?" Her voice sounded so quiet.

Sherlock froze, but gave a slight nod. "She said 'Look what you did to her.' She said that the day of the phone call, after what I made you...And then I woke up."

Silence came back between them until Sherlock lifted his hand. His eyes gazed into hers. His eyes watered and closed them to think. A tear escaped and landed on her cheek. He placed a hand on her cheek and used his thumb to softly wipe away the tear.

"Don't leave me, Molly," He begged softly with a broken voice. "I'm so sorry for all the pain I've caused you over the years. I'm…" Sherlock opened his eyes and dropped his forehead against hers. Molly has already been in tears the moment silence came back between them. She closed her eyes to try to stop them from flowing.

"I meant it, I love you. I love your hair, your eyes, your skin," He places a kiss between her eyes. "I love your horrible jokes, your heart, your small hands," He grabbed them and kissed one of her palms. "I love how much you value your work, how incredibly intelligent you are, how gentle you are with the corpses you have to cut into," He looks at her again. "I love how small you are compare to me, how amazingly you fit in my arms, how much you give and give and give to help others," He lifted himself off her and stood, bringing her to stand with him.

He grabbed her head in his hands and place his forehead against hers again. They swayed back and forth for a few moments.

"I love everything about you, Molly Hooper," he said as he softly kissed her.

Molly gave out a loud sob against his lips. "I love you too, Sherlock. I love you so much," she cried. She pulled away to grasp his face and to look deep in his eyes. "I will always love you, Sherlock. Don't ever forget that," she said.

More tears escaped Sherlock's eyes. "Why? When I brought you nothing, but pain and grief for years?" He looked so lost and young in her eyes.

"You have brought me pain many times, the most painful was the times you went back on the drugs," He flinched at that statement. "But I will always forgive you. After everything we've been through, including that phone call, nothing will stop me from loving you. You're my Sherlock. The mistakes you made never abolished the way I feel about you," She said as she kissed his lips in a loving, chaste manner.

Sherlock hugs her tightly as he sobs into her soft, cinnamon hair, and Molly strokes his back as he does so. She tearfully smiles as she runs a hand through his still damp curls.

Yes, forgiving him is her downfall, but as long as he is there with her, she doesn't mind that outcome.


End file.
